Summer Storm
by Ship Stethan
Summary: Post Season 2 AU. The search for Erica and Boyd is underway, but the pack has no idea where they are, or what the true intentions of the alpha pack may be. On top of all of it, Stiles has started having strange dreams.


Author's Note: Simply, I felt nostalgic about Teen Wolf before season three, its characters and what may have been. Then I got ideas for this story. I hope you like it.

Stiles felt himself emerging from the heavy, mind-numbing fog of sleep. His heart sank when he realized it was still dark. His bedside clock told him it was 3:30 am.

He felt a rush of anxiety, recalling several horror movies he'd watched. It was also well-known in the field of paranormal research: 3 am was dead time.

He sat up and almost sprung with fear. Erica was standing at the end of his bed, looking at him with an intense stare.

This couldn't be real. Stiles popped himself on the side of the head, but she was still there.

"Erica?"

She didn't reply. She seemed almost like a statue.

Stiles rose, but suddenly felt like he'd tumbled forward. This time he really was awake, and the sun's light greeted him through his window.

It really had been a dream after all. What had it meant? Possibly nothing significant, but definitely it meant they'd all been spending too much time looking for Boyd and Erica- and to no avail.

The trail had long gone cold. The alpha pack could be keeping them anywhere. Derek still seemed certain it was under their noses.

Stiles wasn't so sure. It was time to pour over leads again. That kind of thing was mostly his job.

Roughly fifteen minutes later found Stiles in front of his computer with a steaming mug of coffee and a pack of Pop Tarts.

He went over the Word Pad document he'd made listing all the places they'd searched lately.

They'd searched the school, searched the preserve in and out, searched businesses.

There were a few places they hadn't searched like the hospital. Melissa thus far refused to allow it, thinking it a ridiculous notion that a pack of wolves could have smuggled two captives through hospital security.

Stiles agreed it wasn't likely, but they would still search there eventually.

Worst case scenario was the Argents somehow being in league with the alpha pack. Scott still hadn't quite forgiven Allison, and he definitely hadn't.

Where had Gerard vanished to anyway? After the old man's attempt to get the bite from Derek had failed, he'd seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

Stiles sighed and closed the file. It really didn't matter what leads he thought best to try anyway. Mr. Big Bad Alpha, AKA Derek called all the shots. That jerk!

Stiles felt a rush of bitterness at the alpha's stubbornness, but regretted it, thinking about all the sourwolf had lost.

What thoughts did Derek hide beneath that stony exterior?

Danny inhaled heavily through tears, hugging Jackson close like he'd never let go. Jackson let him, and when they pulled away, Danny noted his best friend's eyes were also wet.

"I'll miss you so much," Danny whispered.

"You'll be fine," Jackson assured him with a smile, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. "We can stay in touch."

Yet Jackson still felt a sick twisting in his stomach when they drove away. Maybe it was time for him to move past Lydia, and London might be good in that respect, but Danny was like his brother.

He didn't know why he wanted to change his mind. There was really nothing to keep him in Beacon Hills anymore except Danny or Lydia.

"Dad," Jackson spoke, sure of what he wanted.

His adoptive father gave him an icy glance and didn't answer. Jackson knew his parents were set on this move.

"Dad."

"What?" Mr. Whittemore snapped.

"I don't want to... "

The older man sighed.

"Because of your antics we have no choice. Imagine if this kanima thing got around! Why couldn't you just stay normal?"

"Dad please," Jackson said, inhaling to keep his temper in check.

"Please nothing! We are moving to London!"

"You can't make me go!" Jackson snapped.

His dad clenched his jaw and pulled over on the shoulder.

"Get out!"

Jackson swallowed, expression becoming nervous and unreadable.

"I said out!" Mr. Whittemore barked. "We should have gotten rid of you from the start with this werewolf fiasco! Did you even think what this would cause for us?"

"Mom," Jackson said pleadingly.

However, Mrs. Whittemore scowled and turned away.

Was this really his only choices? Leave Beacon Hills or this?

His dad answered for him by stepping out and opening his door.

"How can you do this?" Jackson demanded, expression twisting with pain. "Don't you... "

He couldn't say it. He'd never told these people he loved them a day in his life. When had they ever made him feel loved? Jackson knew they kept him around for the substantial amount they drew from his inheritance, but his dad was a successful lawyer now. They could do without him...

Jackson closed his eyes and sighed, doing the inevitable. He stepped out onto the shoulder.

Mr. Whittemore fished out his duffel with all his clothes, dropping it unceremoniously.

Jackson couldn't believe it until their car drove away, out of his life forever.

To be continued


End file.
